


Credit

by Branch



Series: Challenge [14]
Category: Prince of Tennis
Genre: M/M, Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-06
Updated: 2010-02-06
Packaged: 2017-10-07 02:06:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Branch/pseuds/Branch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story takes place in a quantum bubble of the Challengeverse (maybe it happened, maybe it didn't), immediately following "The Continuation of War". Tezuka offers Oishi some support after his very bad day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Credit

It had not been a relaxing day for Oishi Shuichirou.

To be sure, practice wasn’t normally somewhere he relaxed. But today had had more than its fair share of stress. On top of the general run of keeping the team focused, there was the vastly increased problem of keeping them focused on actually practicing against Rikkai instead of attempting to one-up the other team. The attitudes of the Rikkai players had not helped in the least.

No, that wasn’t fair, Shuichirou told himself. The attitudes of their singles players were really quite reasonable, even Kirihara’s. Of course, very few people gave Tezuka attitude for long once they had played against him. Well, very few people, aside from Echizen, who gave absolutely everybody attitude, and could actually be considered becomingly respectful, by comparison, for moderating the back talk he gave his captain.

But he was wandering from the subject. The subject was the doubles players, and specifically that Niou character. His partner, at least, had seemed vaguely remorseful about knocking Eiji unconscious, but Niou had brushed it off. Shuichirou felt his teeth grinding, and made himself stop. Again.

He didn’t lose his temper very often, but he would have this afternoon. Not even over a direct offense, either, no, it had been the crack about Niou’s own captain that had been the last straw, and Shuichirou would have exploded, if Tezuka hadn’t noticed. The hand on his shoulder had startled him out of what Shuichirou was guiltily aware was an irrational anger, and the silent support of Tezuka at his back had given him the moment of calm to take a good deep breath and not yell.

It didn’t particularly surprise him that Tezuka had quietly fallen in beside him when they all left. He knew Tezuka worried when Shuichirou lost his cool, and he had to admit that the company was welcome, now. Tezuka’s company in private, where their long familiarity let him relax his usual reserve and show himself to Shuichirou more openly, would be especially welcome.

At his gate he looked a question at Tezuka and received a tiny smile back. Tezuka would come in for a while, then.

Up in his room he let his bags thump to the floor, and leaned his hands on his desk, blowing out a long sigh.

“I’m sorry about that, Tezuka,” he said. “You shouldn’t have to deal with me acting immature, on top of everything else…”

Tezuka’s hands closing over his shoulders stopped him.

“Enough,” the deep voice behind him said, quietly. “No one can keep a perfect temper all the time.”

“Except you?” Shuichirou murmured, ruefully.

“I’m just a little better at putting it off until later.”

Shuichirou sighed again, more softly, as Tezuka’s thumbs stroked down his neck, coaxing away a little of the day’s tension.

“I shouldn’t need you to make allowances for me,” he insisted, though.

Tezuka pulled Shuichirou around and into his arms. “I said, enough,” he warned, the warmth and amusement in his eyes belying his stern tone. “You let yourself be more open than I do, and have the problems that go with that. Why should I be unwilling to help you with the problems when the openness is exactly what I need? Both in my vice-captain and in my friend.”

Shuichirou leaned against his friend and rested his forehead on Tezuka’s shoulder, smiling just a little. They’d had this conversation often enough that he knew he wouldn’t win it. Nor did he really want to. He just couldn’t help saying so, when he felt as if he was taking advantage of Tezuka’s strength. He saw enough of Tezuka’s honest emotion and response to know that, while the strength in question was impressive, it wasn’t limitless. Tezuka always insisted that it was a more than even trade, though. And, to be honest himself, Shuichirou always relaxed quickly with the reassurance of Tezuka’s arms around him.

“Better?” Tezuka asked.

“Yes,” Shuichirou laughed. “Better. Thank you.”

“No need.” Tezuka freed one hand to lift Shuichirou’s chin. “Shuichirou.”

Hearing Tezuka’s dark velvet voice wrapped around his name always made Shuichirou shiver, and his lips were already parted on a quick breath when Tezuka’s mouth covered his. The heat wound its way into his bones, and Shuichirou moaned softly. Tezuka kissed him deep and swift, again and again, the way he kissed when he wanted to lay Shuichirou down and open his legs and touch him until he was incapable of thinking.

Tezuka seemed to especially enjoy that last part.

Shuichirou pressed against Tezuka’s body, offering his assent, and went willingly when Tezuka’s hands guided him down to the bed. Long fingers flicked open his shirt and pants, as Tezuka’s lips traced down his neck.

Opened them, but didn’t pull them off.

“Tezuka,” Shuichirou murmured, shifting under him. It always made him feel a little more… wanton when Tezuka touched him without undressing him first. As if what they were doing was more urgent, even when they went slowly. As if the presence of clothing somehow emphasized how undone and open it was. How undone and open he was, under Tezuka’s hands.

Tezuka’s fingers stroking his chest were a silent question; Tezuka knew that he was hesitant, sometimes, about this. But it excited him, too, and his hand over Tezuka’s, moving it down, was an equally silent answer. Tezuka’s lips curved against his throat.

One warm, strong hand slipped into his open pants, closing around him, and Shuichirou gasped, pressing up into it. Tezuka stroked him firmly, mouth tracking over Shuichirou’s shoulders, pushing his shirt further off, before wandering down his stomach. Shuichirou shuddered as Tezuka’s hands slid down his hips, pushing his pants a little further down even as Tezuka’s legs spread his apart.

Tezuka paused, kneeling above him, hands resting on the arch of his hipbones.

“Tezuka?” Shuichirou asked, breathless.

“Your strength is part of your magnificence, Shuichirou,” Tezuka said, voice low. “Never doubt that I find you magnificent.”

Shuichirou’s breath caught in his throat, and Tezuka’s smile acknowledged both the flush that heated Shuichirou’s cheeks and the wonder that softened his eyes. Tezuka leaned down to kiss him, once, softly.

And then the heat of his mouth closed over Shuichirou’s cock, and Shuichirou’s thoughts were washed under the abrupt surge of tense pleasure. His senses took over the moment, filling his mind with the rough brush and bind of cloth against his skin, the press of Tezuka’s fingers, the sleek, wet glide of his tongue, demanding reaction from Shuichirou’s nerves, stroking liquid heat down them until Shuichirou couldn’t help but answer those demands with long, deep shudders of pleasure that raked through his body and took away with them his ability to move.

Not, he reflected, a little lightheaded, that this was all that different from the results of Tezuka’s demands on the court.

Fingers brushed against his cheek, and Tezuka laughed, softly, that rich sound that so few ever heard.

“You certainly look more relaxed, now,” he commented.

Shuichirou looked up at him and smiled. “So do you,” he said, quite truthfully. The bittersweet-brown eyes were warm, the faint pinch between the brows was gone, and Tezuka’s mouth was gentler than anyone but Shuichirou probably ever saw it. He drew Tezuka down to lie against him, tangling his fingers in soft, springy hair.

“Rest a little,” Shuichirou suggested. “You had a long day, too.”

“Mmm,” Tezuka agreed, winding an arm around Shuichirou. “Good idea. Especially,” and the deep voice took on a hint of teasing as it breathed in Shuichirou’s ear, “since you’ll need your rest later.”

Shuichirou flushed again, abruptly aware of his still rumpled condition, and felt more than heard Tezuka’s suppressed chuckles.

“Tezuka!” he laughed.

**End**


End file.
